Mutual Gaze on Mount Wanse
In the chaos of Beijing, when I look upon another, they look upon me as well. The moment Namgung Woo laid eyes on Han Gye-ran, she too sensed the gaze fixed upon her. Soft footsteps carried her forward in his direction. It was less a martial stride than the measured gait of imperial court etiquette, yet Namgung Woo instantly recognized the profound martial principles woven into that single step. He understood it by instinct alone, simply by watching.
The footwork was brutally restrained, different in nature from the Infinite Steps yet by no means shallow in its comprehension of the Dao. The palm technique she had displayed moments ago, the frightening depth of her internal energy, and now this exquisite movement—nothing about her failed to astonish. Yet what truly captured Namgung Woo’s attention was something else entirely.
That’s actual, authentic hanbok.
He had thought the same the last time he saw it, but in this era, hanbok had become the dominant fashion across the Central Plains. Every respectable clan wore garments modeled after Goryeo styles, and even wealthy commoners kept at least one set of such attire as a matter of course. The superiority of Eastern Sea fashion over that of the Central Plains was simply common sense. Still, nothing could rival the Yuan dynasty’s influence. Goryeo-style clothing could not keep pace with the latest trends from Joseon.
Yet here stood Han Gye-ran, clearly a senior member of the Ming imperial family, dressed in perfect, traditional hanbok. It was impossible not to find it strange. That was precisely why her words reached him before he could speak.
“Young man, what business brings you to the imperial forbidden mountain?”
Her voice carried an extraordinary weight. It was not merely infused with internal energy. The sheer gravity behind it was different. Though she had never become empress, she had protected the current emperor—once a deposed crown prince—through countless dangers after her uncle ascended the throne. She possessed greater power than any empress in history. Pure martial might aside, her influence could sway the empire’s policies with a single word or gesture. Her statements carried more weight than gold.
Yet even Han Gye-ran was not entirely at ease. In fact, she felt far greater wariness and tension than she had decades ago, when she had faced dozens of assassins to protect the then-deposed crown prince.
After all, one sees as much as one knows. She stood at the absolute peak of the Transcendent Realm, a height few in the entire Murim could reach, and even among such masters she ranked at the very top. Her full strength would force even a supreme expert to sacrifice at least an arm to defeat her. But that also meant that no matter how desperately she fought, taking even a single limb from her opponent would be the best she could achieve.
The imperial palace was said to be more treacherous than the bloody jungles of the martial world. The period when she had lived there had been an era of unprecedented, cutthroat succession struggles between two emperors. In that hellish crucible, bearing the stigma of being from the East Sea, she had protected a deposed prince whom the new ruler sought to eliminate and somehow survived. Could anyone truly believe it was solely due to her peerless martial prowess within the imperial clan?
Her insight into the flow of political strife and her cold judgment stood even above her martial ability. And so Han Gye-ran immediately recognized the terrifying depth of internal energy possessed by the young man before her, and how utterly hopeless it would be for her to defeat him.
She raised the imperial family’s secret art, the Heavenly Origin True Qi, and sharpened every nerve to respond to any sudden attack. Depending on his answer, her hand would become the reaper’s scythe in the next instant, striking his vital points without mercy.
A taut, razor-sharp tension pressed down between them. Then Namgung Woo spoke.
“I am here to eliminate the mastermind, madam.”
“And what proof do I have to believe you?”
“You do.”
His immediate reply caused a flash of interest in Han Gye-ran’s eyes.
“What would that be?”
“You have already stepped into the range of my sword.”
She knew it as well. Battles between true experts came down to reading the interval. His sword range was wider than she had anticipated, but it still fell within the margin of error she had calculated.
“Indeed. If I were an enemy, you would have drawn your blade already?”
“There would be no reason not to.”
From his answer, Han Gye-ran could tell that Namgung Woo had already concluded his odds of victory were overwhelmingly high.
What a bold child.
She acknowledged his superior martial realm. But if battles were always decided purely by the level of one’s cultivation, conflict would have vanished from the world long ago.
“Madam, we don’t have time.”
“Then revealing your identity should be simple enough.”
The Heavenly Origin True Qi was a cultivation method created for the emperor. Han Gye-ran had earned the imperial family’s favor and learned it, but it was never taught to ordinary consorts. Its abilities were simply too immense. In particular, its power to discern truth from falsehood—so the emperor could distinguish loyal ministers from deceitful ones—perfectly explained why it had become the imperial heart method.
Only a supreme expert who had opened their upper dantian could wield such an ability, yet Han Gye-ran had mastered it long ago. Unless the other party used special techniques or upper dantian arts, she could tell truth from lies in their words.
Therefore, when Namgung Woo first answered that he had come to Mount Wanse to eliminate the mastermind, she should have sensed his sincerity and relaxed her guard. However…
I cannot read him.
She could discern no truth or falsehood in his words. That only heightened her vigilance.
“I will ask again. Who are you?”
“My name is Nam Woo. I am currently a guest of the Hebei Paeng family.”
Namgung Woo deliberately used his previous life’s language. The appearance of an unfamiliar tongue caused a stir among the court ladies attending Han Gye-ran.
“He’s using sorcery!”
“Protect Her Highness! Shield her with your bodies!”
“Your Highness, please be careful…!”
If it were true sorcery, even the highest martial arts would be useless if one did not recognize it. Yet while Han Gye-ran was surprised, she did not panic like her attendants.
“Enough. It is not sorcery.”
The fierce palm strike that had slain the Vermilion Bird Envoys was nowhere to be seen. With a gentle touch, she moved the court ladies aside and gazed at Namgung Woo with slightly softened eyes.
“That is Joseon speech, is it not?”
“…It is.”
Korean or Joseon speech—by the late Joseon period, the two had become nearly identical. They could be considered the same.
“Joseon! To meet someone of the same blood in this distant foreign land brings me nothing but joy. Yet your Joseon speech sounds somewhat awkward. One of your parents must be from Joseon. Yes… since many women from Joseon came to Ming as I did, your mother must be the one.”
In truth, both of Namgung Woo’s parents were descendants of Joseon, but he had lived a proper social life. The woman before him was clearly of high status. Though she appeared to be a graceful middle-aged beauty, her manner of speech and the reactions of those around her suggested she was quite advanced in age. Martial arts could preserve physical youth and slow aging, but they had little effect on mental senescence. In fact, cultivating upper dantian arts often accelerated one’s mental age, as the intense focus and contemplation made time pass faster than for ordinary people.
Given her position and martial prowess, this beautiful woman likely possessed a strong will. Rather than correct her, Namgung Woo chose to emphasize the parts of her statement that were correct.
“Yes. My mother is from the East Sea. Your insight is truly remarkable.”
“Indeed. It would be so. Yes, where did your mother come from? If she was from Joseon, she must have missed her homeland. You must have heard stories.”
“My mother is from Cheonan. Her ancestor was Jeon Rak, a founding contributor to Goryeo.”
Namgung Woo spoke while recalling the memory of his maternal grandfather showing him the family genealogy during a visit.
“The Cheonan Jeon clan! How could I not know them? Their loyal hearts that died alongside Shin Sung-gyeom for Taejo of Goryeo are well known even in Joseon. As it happens, I am from Cheongju, right beside Cheonan. In this faraway land, we could almost call ourselves from the same hometown.”
By this point, Han Gye-ran’s wariness had almost completely vanished. How delightful it was to meet someone from one’s homeland in a distant foreign country—especially from the neighboring town. Although she was one of the Ming imperial family’s greatest experts, there were at least three others stronger than her. There was no reason for someone to go through the trouble of learning Joseon language and preparing detailed family history just to deceive her.
She spoke in the gentle tone an elder might use with a distant nephew.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“I see. That was around the time I was too busy attending to His Majesty to pay attention to Joseon affairs. Yet you have not forgotten your mother’s tongue. How commendable. And… to possess such martial ability at twenty-six.”
Han Gye-ran’s sharp mind quickly scanned the imperial family tree. There was exactly one suitable candidate left.
“Very good. That age, that status, that martial prowess… what could possibly be lacking for you to become a member of the imperial family?”
Namgung Woo narrowed his eyes, sensing the conversation had taken a strange turn. Unaware of his feelings, Han Gye-ran continued with a satisfied smile.
“Among His Majesty’s sisters, there is exactly one princess who has not yet been married off. She is His Majesty’s youngest sister. She lost her mother at a young age, and I raised her as if she were my own granddaughter.”
The current emperor’s daughters were still too young for marriage, but his youngest sister was not far from Namgung Woo in age. At least by the standards of this era.
“What do you think? If you agree, I will advise His Majesty to take you as her royal consort.”
Arranged marriages without even seeing the other person’s face were common in this period, but to Namgung Woo, who retained memories of modern times, it was an extremely distasteful notion. The conversation had suddenly shifted into a marriage meeting atmosphere—Our granddaughter is quite a catch—and he felt rather awkward.
This was hardly the time.
“Madam, forgive me, but isn’t there a more urgent matter at hand?”
“You mean the Ghost Gate on Mount Wanse? There is no need to worry. Why else do you think I am not rushing? I have already sent someone.”
Having been distracted by the woman before him, Namgung Woo once again examined the summit of Mount Wanse with his Changnyeongmanan. Sure enough, an overwhelming aura that had not been there moments ago had joined the others.
“The Jinyiwei Commander is there. There is nothing to fear. Unless one of those martial artists the Murim fools call the Three Extremes or some such, no one can defeat him.”
The leader of the blades that guarded the imperial family. The emperor’s first sword. That man stood at the pinnacle of the Jinyiwei as its commander. His martial prowess needed no explanation. To say that none but the Three Extremes could defeat him meant he was unquestionably the strongest among the Twelve Supremes.
However—
“It is not enough.”
The scale of the threat visible to Namgung Woo was not something that man could handle alone.
“I must go as well.”